


But It's You

by Cobrilee



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, In a nebulous sort of way, M/M, Road Trips, again in a nebulous sort of way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Derek takes Stiles monster hunting. Monster hunting is not Stiles’ first choice, but Derek is.





	But It's You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [mad-madam-m](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/) for the prompt (from a prompt list, “Things I said you weren’t supposed to hear”), and helping me break the curse that is writer’s block. Thank you to [rhysiana](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com/) for preventing me from making it completely angsty.

“Der? You awake?” The words are soft, carried to him on a mere puff of breath, really, as if Stiles doesn’t actually want him to hear. 

He is, but he’s tired. They’ve been driving for days and his patience is wearing thin and he doesn’t want to get drawn into some inane, babbling conversation. Which isn’t fair to Stiles, honestly, because he’s older now, and he doesn’t babble near as much, and he’s much less inane than he used to be. But Derek’s afraid of him more than the threat they’re chasing, and he doesn’t want to give Stiles the opening to slip that knife between his ribs and twist.

So he doesn’t answer. He breathes evenly, steadily, and after a few minutes, Stiles sighs.

“I don’t want to be here,” he admits lowly. Derek assumes he’s about to become the equivalent of a priest, silently listening to the confessions of one who thinks he’s done something wrong. Except he won’t be able to ease Stiles’ mind with the instruction to do three Hail Mary’s as penance. “I’m tired of fighting all the time. I’m tired of always being the one to give up everything. Scott gets to have a life. Lydia gets to have a life. Fucking Jackson still gets to have a life. Why is it that I’m always the one who researches the evil things, and runs after the evil things, and gets whooped on by the evil things?”

Derek almost snorts at that, but he rolls his lips inward and fights off the smirk. He could give Stiles the answer, and remind him that Stiles does all of it for the people he loves. He never does it for himself. As long as there are people in his life who he wants to protect, he’ll do everything he can to keep them safe. Even if it means researching until four in the morning and then heading to work at eight, eyes bloodshot and chugging a half-dozen shots of espresso. Even if it means taking a week’s vacation on a moment’s notice to go tracking with Derek.

He doesn’t. He continues to feign sleep.

Stiles falls silent, and Derek thinks that’s the end of it. That Stiles felt guilty for being selfish and wanting a normal life. That he needed to get it out to someone, even though he didn’t actually want anyone to hear it. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it were anyone else but you,” he whispers, and Derek blinks, staring at the wall of the shitty motel room, the most recent in a string of shitty motel rooms. Stiles is in the bed on the other side of the room, at Derek’s back, so he knows Stiles has no way of knowing he’s awake. Still, he freezes, waiting for whatever’s coming next. “If Scott had asked me, or Lydia, I would have told them I couldn’t take the time off work without warning like that. I would have said no. But it’s you,” and the sound is both breathless and bitter. “It’s you, and I can’t say no to you. I  _ can’t _ . So here we are.”

Derek’s hand twitches, and his breathing sounds harsher to his ears, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should keep pretending to be asleep, or if he should roll over and say something, or if he should pretend this never happened.

“I wonder if you’ll ever know that?” he muses, and the wistfulness in the words makes his chest ache, sharp enough to burn. Breathing feels like knives in his lungs. “I wonder if you’ll ever realize that you could ask me to leave everything behind, my whole life, and I’d do it in an instant if it meant never losing you again?”

He chuckles then, mirthless, cold, sharp. “I wonder if it would matter to you if you  _ did _ know?”

Derek’s still frozen when Stiles’ breathing evens out and he falls asleep.

\-----

He’s achy and stiff the next morning; he slept like shit. Stiles, however, is cheerful and noisy, whistling as he goes around the tiny room, grabbing the belongings that he always manages to leave strewn around despite the limited amount of time they spend in them. Apparently his confession the night before unburdened his soul, despite the lack of penance. 

It only takes a few moments for the ache to fade, the stiffness to melt into fluid movements. He’s quieter than Stiles as he gathers his own things, kept to a small radius around his travel bag. When they’re both ready, Stiles falls into step with him as they exit the motel room and pour themselves back into the Camaro for another day of driving who knows where.

They stop down the road at a gas station; Derek fills up while Stiles collects an armload of junk food from the attached convenience store. He bites back a smirk, an admonishment to not eat so much junk, a warning not to get cheese sauce and chocolate and Pringles crumbs in his car, and joins him at the counter with two cups of coffee and his credit card. 

They settle back into their seats and Derek waits until Stiles fastens his seat belt before handing over the steaming cup of coffee. Their fingers brush and Stiles jerks a little, cursing when coffee splashes onto the back of his hand. He shifts the cup to his other hand, but before he can lift it to his lips so he can blow on it, Derek reaches out and takes it. 

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his breath trapped in his chest, and Derek doesn’t meet them as he draws the pain up and out, his fingers wrapped tightly around Stiles’. After a few moments, Stiles starts breathing again. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Thanks.”

Derek still doesn’t let go, just sits there while he struggles to find words. He can feels Stiles’ unease grow, feel his hand trying to tug away, but not very hard. “Der?”

He doesn’t know what to say, but he knows how to start. Twisting a little, he meets Stiles’ confused gaze. “It matters,” he says, and he smiles a little. “It always has.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open slightly, but he doesn’t say anything as he slides his fingers through Derek’s. Derek tightens his grip, revs the engine, and feels his heart lift as his exhaustion fades away. 

He doesn’t know where this journey is taking them, but it doesn’t really matter as long as they find the end of the road together.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come say hi to me on [Tumblr!](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/) I love talking to people. :)


End file.
